When I was in middle school, I had a friend that I knew during 7th through 8th grade. I will call her J. J is one of the most important people in my life, mostly because of how much I think of them. In middle school, I was constantly deteriorating, similar to how I am now. I would eat lunches in the stalls since I was too embarrassed for a reason I’m still unsure about. Though, those two years were some of the best yet worst years of my life, mostly because of J. J was someone I could talk to without having to censor myself of the explicit things I think about because I related to her and they related to me. Even without the mental health talk, J was still someone I felt genuinely safe around because I knew they cared. We would talk about our self-harm tendencies, and joke about it as well. As unhealthy as it sounds, I was happy with it. Trust built from things like that is something I don’t think I’ll ever experience again. I remember seeing J for the first time, thinking they looked so cool. We became friends quickly, I remember when they cut their hair short in the 7th grade. I wanted to get a similar haircut for a while back then, but my parents wouldn’t allow me. But, J told me that they went against their own parents’ wishes about keeping their hair long. Next year, I did the exact same thing and cut my own hair short despite my parents’ wishes. Though, one time, J asked me what I used to get the scars I have now. I didn’t want to tell them, but J pushed and so, I gave in. To this day, I still regret it. I might have helped J dive a little deeper into harming themselves, and it haunts me. I understand that J would have continued either way, no matter what object used, but I can’t forgive myself for giving out details like that even if I wasn’t as mature as I am now. I knew better than that, to give in. When 8th grade passed, I was put in the program I am in now, causing me to move schools. At first, J was angry. I understand, though, I didn’t want to go to a different school than J, and I didn’t even want to be in IB in the first place. But, we agreed that we would stay in contact until junior year, when J and our other middle-school friends would come to my school.
That never happened. We stayed in minimal contact in freshman year, but the thing about J is that J is extremely bad at responding to text messages, and apparently that applies to mostly everyone J talks to from what I know. Other people have told me that J has me on her pinned contacts, yet I barely get a response back from her. I’ve tried texting J since freshman year and only twice she responded, telling me that they would respond back to me and we would have a conversation. I fell for that response several times before I gave up, not getting a response back from the last message I’ve sent. Now, it’s junior year and I sometimes see J in the halls. I saw J at homecoming. We waved and then I immediately left that area. I couldn’t stand seeing them after how they have treated me, after how much I care for them only to be met with messages that are ignored or forgotten about. I wonder if J has ever seen me in the hallways, too. Not just me seeing the back of their long hair or their purple sweater.
I know I might sound petty, and I may be. But, what we had was extremely special to me, and it’s now gone and I’m reminded about it every once in a while. J has told me before that they get nervous about responding to text messages, believing that the person they’re responding to may not like them anymore, or even hate them. I tried to tell them many times that I could never hate them. Now, I’m stuck wondering if they believe that despite the times I told them it wasn’t true, that I can’t hate them, or that they genuinely just don’t want anything to do with me. I can’t tell what would be true or not at this point. I wonder if J still thinks of me, of the friendship we had. I know it was important to them too. I still drive by J’s house, we live close. J still feels so far away from me. I know I miss what we had, but I miss J too. I hope J reaches out. I don’t want to feel like I have to beg anymore.
When I was in catholic school, I remember we had an assignment where we got the name of a random saint, and we had to research about them. The saint I got from that assignment was Saint Rita of Cascia. I didn’t think much of her, in all honesty. I didn’t think much about being catholic when I was small, only thinking “this is who I am, I’m catholic,” and that’s all to it. Now, I have a few objects depicting her. One, a necklace with words carved into it; “pray for us,” and on the back, a portrait of her. Next, a small clay figure of her on my nightstand. I found the necklace a few days ago, and I thought about her more. I figured out she is a saint with the title; "Patroness of Impossible Causes.” She’s known as the patroness of abuse victims, couples’ difficulties, widows, and those who are ill. I didn’t remember any of this information. But now, I feel connected to her. Do you understand the irony, or have you not been paying attention, reader?